


Dumbstruck

by aWishUponPolaris



Series: Ever [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Meet-Cute, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aWishUponPolaris/pseuds/aWishUponPolaris
Summary: Words are only useful if they leave the mouth or hand, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

The hour read seven-oh-four, and Braedyn was milling about his tiny studio apartment, _The Passage_ dominating one hand (and both eyes) with a single hand left for arranging various books in his bag - precalculus, European history, art history, four notebooks, and… with a cursory glance at his checklist, Braedyn slipped in the last book and closed the bag, finally setting his newly-bought morning reading down to fully evaluate his schedule and notes.

_` thursday 14/10` _

_` first class: 9:15, art history - have a test` _

_` maybe try grey dog?` _

There was more scrawled onto the page, but he had no need of it just yet. With another glance to the time, his bag, his checklist, and generally to the small space around him, he nodded to himself that everything was on track before pulling on a windbreaker to protect himself against the cool October morning. And with that, he was gone.

The walk, ranging Thompson, the park, Waverly, 6th, Greenwich, 7th, until finally he strode down 16th, saw him humming along to the song running through the earbuds. The morning was a pleasant one, albeit chilly, and Braedyn pulled his collar closer to himself as a particularly strong wind passed through the narrow streets. Upon landing on the step to the early-bird café half past the hour, he pushed through the doors and felt himself enveloped by the warmth of conditioned air.

There were only a few other people in the space, and the kind atmosphere permeated the decor and energy. It felt… pleasant, if not particularly unique. It reminded him of something he might see back in Wales, with a bit less liqueur.

At the register, while staring up at the menu, Braedyn gave his order to the cheery morningshifter, smiling at her as she suggested to him a seat. With the intention of heading to a seat to await his food, he turned around a moment after the chimes of an old bell gave notice of an entering patron.

And then, his world was frozen by eyes of morning glory.

In retrospect, Braedyn would find a frustrating irony in the situation; an English major’s greatest weapon, their _gran don_ , their one true talent, was their words, their ability to describe any instance, with clarity, concision, and vividity. Yet in that moment, Braedyn found himself entirely and utterly _dumbstruck_. Even seven years later, despite long nights grappling with his laptop and head, he would still remain unable to do justice to how he felt in the moment his world ended - and started anew. In the moment with eyes so clear he could see his future sprawled out in them, the moment with pale skin and dark hair and a smile so serene it could end wars, Braedyn’s greatest weapon laid in pieces.

“Guh,” came his _most eloquent_ of greetings.

A smile, amused and bemused in flawless proportion. “Um. Hi?”

“I, uh - that is - you -” a palm to the back of his neck, another held uselessly in the air a foot from him, as if hoping the perfect words, the words needed for this moment of moments…

“Do you come here often?” The words left before he could stop them.

Well. That was a thing. Instead of words falling into his open hand, his face took the opportunity as he gave a groan mirroring his current mortification. “Cachu hwch.”

“I’m just, uh,” and up went his white flag. He made the executive decision that silence would be his best option. Oh, but how absolutely crimson his face must be right now!

He walked (sulked, as eyewitness testimony would contest) to his seat by the window, looking discreetly over to the other patrons - and _entirely_ avoiding the one standing currently at the counter - to survey the damage. If anyone had taken his bout for entertainment, they failed to show it. Maybe, Braedyn supposed, they were used to the unusual display. This _was_ Greenwich, after all. It’d never been quite normal.

“Hey, sir,” came a female voice, jarring him from his inner monologue despite the low volume. “I, uh, figured you could use this. A pick-me-up. On the house. Your food will be coming shortly.”

On the table was placed a warm cookie, fresh from the oven and distinctly not amongst his order, alongside his cappuccino. The waitress, who’d also been the girl working the counter, gave him a sympathetic smile. He thanked her and she went back to her duties.

_Pity_ , as Braedyn understood the gesture to be; he sunk further into his seat. _Iesu Grist_ , even the waitress pitied him.

At least it was a very good cookie. He’d torn off another piece and was about to pop it into his mouth when the seat in front of him shifted to let someone sit.

Braedyn glanced away from his pity-party-cookie in favor of his new company - and was once more greeted with morning glory.

“Uh… hi.” Braedyn dropped his cookie piece back onto its plate. One might have accused him of squeaking. He could neither confirm nor deny this statement.

A soft laugh and a beatific smile were the response as the other lowered themself into the seat. “You seemed lonely. I hope I’m not intruding?”

“No! Not at all!” His response, far too quick, came spilling out and _oh, he was blushing again_. “I don’t mind one bit.”

“Wonderful!” With that issue apparently squared away, they shuffled in their seat as a waiter - not the girl, Braedyn noted, but a guy this time, having newly opened shift - delivered a cup of cream-topped warmth to…

“Taylor,” his line of thought was interrupted, and his waking attention returned to the eyes across from his, “and yes, I do. Have for a few years now.”

Braedyn’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“My name - it’s Taylor. And… you’d asked me if I come here often?” Braedyn’s cheeks still flushed slightly with the reference. “Well, I do. I love this place. Though I’m fairly sure that I’ve never seen you here..?”

“No, no. Never been here before. First time, actually. Usually just go to Auggie’s, over on Thompson.”

“Oh. Yeah, I figured.”

And there it was again. The painful, gaping void where his words normally went. He put a hand over his book in the hopes of osmosis putting some of the lovely language into his vacant mind. It wasn’t effective, but… oh, there was surely some clever expression upon hope, somewhere there.

Morning glory met his hand’s resting place. “Oh, is that Justin Cronin’s new book?”

Just like that, like shackles dropping from worn wrists, was his tongue liberated, his mind limbered to its usual strength. “Oh, yes,” he began, “ _The Passage_ . It came out this spring, if memory serves. I’d heard good things about Cronin, and Ballantine Books in general. But oh, it’s been _delightful_ , if such a word could be appropriate for a horror-suspense tale.” At the apples of his cheeks, he could feel it there, the workings of a grand smile that edged just this side of a grin.

He saw it there, too - the slightest shift in Taylor’s face, admittedly unnoticeable to anyone not mapping out the very features; a soft quirk of lips, a twitch of a brow, a subtle narrowing of eyes just enough to cast them in a different light. Not morning glories, then - columbines, he settled, stared back at him with some unplaced emotion.

Yes, columbine. He decided that he liked such a deduction very much.

* * *

 

There’s something funny to be said concerning good food and good company - they’re both very good at taking away one’s eyes from the clock. He and Taylor, it felt as though they’d known each other for ages. There hadn’t been a lull in their conversation until, one some whim, Taylor’d passively glanced to the wall clock.

“Say, when did you have to be at class?”

A dismissive hum in consideration. “Quarter past nine?”

“Were you aware that it’s five-to?”

“Five-to?” He blinked. Then, the gears started turning. “Five-to… eight fifty-five?! Shit!” He nearly jumped out of his seat. “I’m so sorry, but I _really_ have to go, uh… here!” He snatches his notepad from the table and scribbles his name and number before tearing it out and handing it to Taylor; by the time they’d evaluated the slip’s contents, Braedyn was already packed and pulling out a tip for the waitress. “We should do this again - text me!”

He caught one last flash of columbine and an amused smile as he left, dashing up the street towards the stop and the C train that would get him to Morningside Heights.

It would take him half an hour. It _did_ take him such, in fact - he was panting and sweaty and _he made such a good picture now, didn’t he_? As he staggered to the classroom door, already fifteen minutes overdue and fairly disheveled, he sent up a silent prayer in thanks that Taylor didn’t see him in such a sorry state.

Then he reached the door. The door, which was closed and locked, with a shuttered window. The door, which bore a note, _class cancelled until 10/21_.

He laughed. He couldn’t help himself but to laugh at his own misery.

Eventually, he began gathering himself to head towards a library near whatever class he had next that day - economics, he believed - when his cell blipped.

He pulled it out of his pocket, swiping through the touch display that still felt a bit foreign to him, and pulling open the new text.

`It’s Taylor. Good luck on your test. Hope prof doesn’t tear your head off.`

He gave a smile at that, and with a few taps of his index, began to respond.

`Actually...`


	2. Extra: Texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened with Taylor after Braedyn left the diner?

` Hey`

`Guess what?`

* * *

 

`what`

* * *

 

`You know how I was at the Grey Dog?`

`yeah`

`like every morning`

`so`

* * *

 

`So there was this guy.`

* * *

 

`omg there are guys?????!!!1!`

* * *

 

`Hahaha very funny.`

`Not that you know anything about guys.`

* * *

 

`ouch low blow`

* * *

 

`Not as low as your chances.`

* * *

 

`meanie`

* * *

 

`Anyways.`

`Yeah, there was this guy.`

* * *

 

`and`

* * *

 

`And he was really cute`

* * *

 

`so did you get his #???`

`i need deets!`

`deets`

`deets  
`

* * *

 

`Calm down, you’ll get ‘deets’ :P`

`So, I walk in, yeah?`

* * *

 

`mhm`

* * *

 

`And I’m walking up to the counter and suddenly he turns around and`

`Just STARES`

`And I’m then just thinking if I’ve turned into a unicorn overnight?`

* * *

 

`like creepy stare?`

* * *

 

`No, like He was surprised? `

`But then he starts talking`

`Or`

`Trying to talk`

`And he’s a sputtering mess`

* * *

 

`that sounds lowkey adorable`

`was he the nerdy type`

* * *

 

`You mean, did he have glasses?`

`Because, no, so`

* * *

 

`aww boo`

* * *

 

`What’s with you and glasses?`

`Whatever, not the point.`

`But yeah he's stuttering all over the place.`

`He used the, ‘come here often’`

* * *

 

`lol you can't be serious`

* * *

 

`Deadly. `

`Funny thing is, it didn't sound bad on him? `

`Like it was a ‘him’ thing to say.`

* * *

 

`so he IS the nerdy type`

* * *

 

`>_>`

* * *

 

`js :3`

* * *

 

`He still didn't have glasses`

* * *

 

`he prob left them @ home sounds like a thing he does`

* * *

 

`Why am I texting you again?`

* * *

 

`cuz nobody else wants to hear about your thrilling love life, 40YOV`

`but i do so spit it out`

* * *

 

`Ugh fine`

`Anyways, he just goes to sit down cuz I guess he's done trying`

`But I'm not.`

`Obviously.`

`So I sit down across from him.`

`He freezes up.`

`Oh and, side note: the waitress gave him a pity cookie. Yeah.`

* * *

 

`OMG LOL DYING`

* * *

 

`So was I.`

`Quietly.`

`Okay, but the whole talking thing? Yeah, still.`

* * *

 

`maybe he thought you were super cute?`

`¯\_(ツ)_/¯`

* * *

 

`So now I'm trying to find something to talk about cuz he really is somehow charming and really hot and and like we both know how social anxiety really sucks so.`

`Hey, do you know that author I've been raving about?`

* * *

 

`???`

`uh crane right?`

* * *

 

`Cronin.`

`Ugh gosh Selena.`

`He was reading Cronin’s new book.`

* * *

 

`cool so neutral ground`

* * *

 

`Right.`

* * *

 

`also sounds like some cheesy sitcom thing but w/e`

* * *

 

`Except then he apparently remembered how to talk…`

`did I mention he has a really soothing voice?`

`And an accent.`

* * *

 

`from where`

* * *

 

`No clue, but it was kinda sexy.`

`Maybe Scottish?`

`And then he smiled.`

* * *

 

`do you hear yourself`

* * *

 

`I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.`

* * *

 

`sure`

`but really awesome for you!`

`he sounds super adorable`

* * *

 

`Yeah. :)`

`And yes, I have his number.`

* * *

 

`and did you text him`

* * *

 

`Uh`

`Not yet?`

* * *

 

`ughhhhh taylooooor`

* * *

 

`What?`

* * *

 

`text him!`

* * *

 

`It’s been all of 30 minutes Lena.`

`He's going to class.`

`Late now if he didn't pull a miracle.`

* * *

 

`it lets him know u want to text him`

`he'll see it when he gets out of class!`

* * *

`… Does it really help?`

* * *

`yES`

* * *

 

`It doesn't sound desperate?`

* * *

 

`nO DO IT`

* * *

 

`Alright.`

`I guess I’ll text him now.`

`Thanks`

* * *

 

`np`

`ask him if he has glasses!`

* * *

 

`... I'm not doing that. `

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone knows a better way to format this, I'm all ears!

**Author's Note:**

> “We live, we die. Somewhere along the way, if we're lucky, we may find someone to help lighten the load.” 
> 
> \- Justin Cronin, The Passage


End file.
